


Christmas at the Abbey Hotel

by cowherderess



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-02-22 22:47:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13176801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowherderess/pseuds/cowherderess
Summary: Mary and Matthew's six-year-old daughter Alice is the darling of the Abbey Hotel, England's finest country house hotel. And she thinks she knows everything about the place, until her aunt Sybil returns from university in America with a fiancé in tow. A modern AU inspired by "Eloise at Christmastime," written as a Secret Santa gift for broadwaybaggins.





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BroadwayBaggins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BroadwayBaggins/gifts).



It was the week before Christmas. Outside, the first dusting of snow had fallen, and inside, the staff were caught up in a whirlwind of preparations. Despite the hotel manager’s meticulous oversight and planning, there was always plenty to do-- even before something went wrong, as it always did, and made extra work. That mishap, any time of year, usually could be traced back to the little girl who now stood in the middle of the great hall, watching as porters put up the Christmas tree.

She was examining them carefully, leaning first one way and then the other and then back again. Finally, she decided that the tree tilted just a little to the left, and told the porter so. However, she did not linger to see whether her recommendation was carried out (although it was), instead skipping off to the front desk, where she cut ahead of the line. 

“Good morning, Mr. Carson!” she sang out, accompanied by a chorus of clucking from the two elderly ladies she had interrupted. “Are there any messages for me?”

“Yes,” the hotel manager replied solemnly, “--the Royal Ballet has asked you to appear as Clara in their production of _The Nutcracker_.”

Alice considered a moment, and then sighed dramatically. “I’m afraid I must decline. I shall be too busy playing Tiny Tim. But perhaps next year.”

He nodded. “Indeed. I must also tell you that Mrs. Patmore has just finished a batch of gingerbread biscuits and needs your taste-testing.”

“That, I can do!” she exclaimed, beaming. 

“Now, Miss Alice, I’m afraid I have work to do. But I am sure I will see you later.” He looked to the ladies apologetically. 

“Alright, I’m sure you will.”

She headed away, in the direction of the kitchen, but was soon distracted by a girl at the end of the line who was holding a puppy. 

“Oh, he’s adorable! What’s his name?”

“Snowball,” the girl replied. 

“How darling!” Alice petted the dog, as she kept talking. “Are you staying at Downton for Christmas? I hope so! It is truly the most wonderful time of year. It’s all decorated, as you see, and there’s the big tree, and there’s so many parties, and when it snows a little more there will be sleigh rides!”

“Yes, my family is staying here,” the girl said. “And yours? Have you been here before?”

“I live here, with my parents and grandparents. My family has always lived here, even before it was turned into a hotel after the war.”

“Oh!”

“It was called Downton Abbey then. Abbey, because monks used to live here a long, long time ago. But then it was the Crawleys, just by themselves. But my mum’s grandfather changed it to the Abbey Hotel, and I’m glad he did!”

The girl nodded. 

“Well, maybe I’ll see you again this week! But I have to go now.” Alice kissed the dog’s nose, and then she was off again. On her way to the kitchen, she passed by the sofas in the hall where newly-arrived guests could rest their feet. On one, she noticed, sat a man in a grey trench coat and hat. Only his eyes were visible over the top of his newspaper. That was certainly peculiar; and even more peculiar, when he noticed her looking, he immediately raised his newspaper to hide entirely. 

She decided not to investigate further at this very moment-- the prospect of fresh-baked biscuits was too overwhelming-- but she filed it away to think about later. 

Upstairs was a coordinated sort of busy, but downstairs was chaotically so. Alice loved it-- especially because Mrs. Patmore, the chef, always had a moment to spare for her (and a sweet treat to try). Everyone had a soft spot for the earl’s little granddaughter-- even though some, like the housekeeper Mrs. Hughes, were more reluctant to admit it. 

“Mr. Carson said you made gingerbread!”

“I did.” Mrs. Patmore wiped her hands on her apron, and led Alice over to the table, where trays of gingerbread people sat cooling. 

Alice delicately bit off the corner of the gingerbread lady’s skirt, and pronounced it, “Scrumptious!” She reached for another for the road, but the cook intervened.

“Your mother will have my head if I give you two biscuits before breakfast.”

“It’ll be our secret! Pinky promise.” Alice smiled angelically, and truly it was difficult to deny that sweet little face. She had inherited her father’s blue eyes, and her mother’s bright smile.

“Alright, then,” Mrs. Patmore relented, and Alice tucked the second into the pocket of her jumper.

Someone approached behind them. “How fine these look!” he said. “May I?”

Alice turned around, at the familiar voice. “Tom!” she exclaimed. “You’re in the kitchen! Are you helping as a waiter again?”

Tom Branson was one of her particular friends among the Abbey’s staff. He worked as a driver, usually, and they had met when he began driving Alice to school. He was a wonderful storyteller, with his specialty being Irish history.

He nodded. “Mr Carson has drafted me, in anticipation of a special event due to take place on Christmas Eve.”

“Ooh, what’s that?” Alice demanded. She prided herself on knowing all that went on within the Abbey, and she had not heard of anything out-of-the-ordinary on Christmas Eve this year.

Tom shook his head. “It’s still a secret, even to us. You must let me know what you hear.”

“Of course. But wait--” Alice’s brow furrowed. “Does that mean you’re not going home to Ireland?”

“I’ll go that evening, after-- and arrive in time for midnight Mass, to Mam’s great relief.”

Alice nodded. “Oh, good.”

“It’s nearly nine o’clock, dear,” Mrs. Patmore informed them. “Your parents have rung for breakfast.”

“I’d better go! Thanks for the biscuits! And I’ll tell you if I find out anything but _you_ must also tell _me_ if you do.”

“You can bet on it.” 

And Alice took off running upstairs. She and her parents lived in a suite on the second floor, right next door to her grandparents. Her great-grandmother lived down the hall. There were two other suites there, for guests, and then individual rooms on the upper floors. 

Mary and Matthew were still in their dressing gowns, just sitting down to breakfast, when their daughter burst into the apartment and let the door slam behind her. She took her place at the table, where there was a bowl of porridge waiting for her.

“Hello, Al,” Matthew said. “How were the morning rounds?”

“Full of ribbons and holly and jingle bell cheer! I helped them put up the Christmas tree,” Alice reported, “and I saw Tom. He’s being a waiter for something happening on Christmas Eve. Do you know what that is?”

Mary and Matthew exchanged a glance. They did know, for Mary was her father’s second-in-command in all hotel business.

“Ugh.” Alice sighed. “Is it something only for grown-ups?” 

“No, you’ll find out soon enough,” Mary promised. “But your Aunt Sybil wants to tell you herself.”

Alice’s eyes grew wide. “Auntie Sybil? She’s coming here? When?”

The family had, for all of Alice’s short life, gone to visit Sybil in America. Alice sometimes had trouble believing that her favorite aunt had grown up at Downton too.

“She’s coming back for good,” Mary said, before suddenly and deftly catching Alice’s hand just as she was about to spill a fourth spoonful of sugar into her porridge and steering the sugar back into its proper bowl. “That is far too much,” she scolded. “Must we have this conversation every morning?”

“We must,” Alice replied, now stirring in a generous serving of cream. “Porridge by itself is yucky.”

“It’s good for you, darling, and I’m afraid some things that are good for you just won’t be terribly pleasant.”

Alice turned pleading eyes to her father, but to no avail. 

“Listen to Mummy,” Matthew said. “She always knows.” 

And Mary knew then to change the subject. “Aunt Sybil is arriving later this morning. I have some work to do, so will you keep a lookout and meet her for me?”

“Yes!” Alice took one bite of her by now syrupy porridge, before pushing it away. “I just have to feed Dinah and Mrs. Piggle-wiggle first and then I’ll go.” These two were her cat and pet hedgehog.

She slid off the chair, and went round the table to Mary. “Love you, Mummy.” She kissed her mother’s cheek. Next she went to her father, and did the same. “Bye, Daddy.” And then she ran off once more. 

“I’ve assigned Tom to drive the Allsops to York,” Mary said, once Alice was out of earshot. “He’ll be gone all day.”

Matthew nodded slowly. “That’s one day. But they must meet eventually.”

“Well, we have one more day to prepare ourselves.” She sighed, before holding out one hand. “Help me up? I ought to get dressed.”

He let out a theatrical sigh as he did so. “Phew!”

“Oh, shut up,” she replied, but fondly, resting a hand on her rounded stomach. “If I’m too heavy, you have only yourself to blame.”

“True, and I’ll gladly take responsibility for that.”

Now it was her turn to sigh. “Ugh, why does Sybil have to be getting married _now_? We’ve never met the man-- what’s the rush? I say wait til spring, so we’ll know this _Larry_ properly, and I’ll have my figure back.”

“Both matters of equal importance,” he teased.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.” His expression softened, and he put his arms around her and kissed her forehead. “It’ll all sort itself out, I know it.”

“Well, I admire your confidence.” She returned the hug, and then said, “Alright, time to go. Busy day-- busy _week_ \-- ahead of us.”


	2. Part II

Mary changed into a smart pantsuit and blouse-- ever the professional, even on the days she worked from home, and even into her sixth month of pregnancy. She was already deep into her work by the time Matthew arrived in their study a half an hour later.

“So what is it today?” He stood behind her, and rested his hands on her shoulders. For a moment, she allowed herself to relax into him, in acknowledgment of his presence.

“Oh, nothing much,” she replied, breezily, “--just some bank records Mr. Bates sent over to me, for revision.”

Unfortunately, her tone did not dissuade him from discussing it, as she had hoped. While they agreed on many things, the running of the hotel-- and specifically, her father’s part in it-- was a regular source of friction between them.

“That sounds like _his_ job, darling,” he said. “I should think he’s well past the stage of needing his work revised.” John Bates had worked at Downton for nearly twenty years, and now was the hotel’s chief finance officer. There was nobody Robert trusted more.

“Certainly-- it’s just this once that he needs a fresh set of eyes to see that everything is in order.” She squinted at her computer screen, and scribbled something on a notepad.

“Because... there’s a possibility it might not be?” Matthew felt some trepidation, hearing that, for his father-in-law had a history of unwise investments-- among other unwise decisions generally.

But Mary’s faith in her father appeared unshaken. “Yes, but I’m sure it’s only a computer glitch or some such thing.” She twisted around in her chair to look at him, finally. “It’ll just take a bit longer, and then I’m to meet Sybil and Mama for lunch and to discuss the wedding.”

He accepted her change in subject, for the time being, and smiled. “Is there anything left to plan?”

“Yes, lots-- it’s all rather last-minute. Mama is calling in all kinds of favors.” Cora was the hotel’s event planner, and had handled many a wedding here before. “But,” Mary had to admit, “Sybil isn’t being terribly helpful.”

“Isn’t she?”

“For one thing, she has just decided that she would like to serve bagels at the reception. She came to like them quite a bit while in New York--”

“I remember that from last time we were there.”

“Yes, and she says that they’re an important part of her heritage and must be included. If she wants to, fine-- and Mama is thrilled-- but it’s proving difficult to find a baker who will come here at such short notice. For naturally only _proper New York bagels_ will do.”

“I would never have expected Sybil, of all people, to be any kind of bridezilla,” Matthew remarked, and Mary burst out laughing.

“How do you know that word?”

“My dearest,” he teased, “you and Anna have watched a _lot_ of garbage television. You said it was only while the babies were nursing, but they haven’t been for quite some time now--”

“So says the man who still plays football video games with his best mate,” she responded loftily.

“Touché.” He smiled, and leaned down to kiss the top of her head, before returning to their previous conversation. “There might be something else to Sybil’s fixation with bagels.”

She nodded. “Seems quite possible-- you’re right she’s not the _bridezilla_ type. I’ll tell you what I find out at lunchtime.”

“And do tell me if there’s anything odd with those numbers from Bates, as well.”

“Of course I would, if there was.” But she put her hand over his, where it rested on her shoulder, in quiet reassurance that as much as she loved her father, she did believe in him. “What are you doing the rest of the day? Are you free for lunch?”

“I can be.”

“Good, because I’ve told Sybil you can have lunch with Larry. She’s been worrying over him not knowing anybody here and being at loose ends this week.”

Matthew sighed, but despite his reluctance, could only agree. “Anything for you.”

She smiled brilliantly at him. “Thanks ever so, darling. Who knows, perhaps you’ll even enjoy it!”

~*~

Meanwhile, Alice was downstairs in the hall, watching the staff put ornaments on the newly-installed Christmas tree. She had been there a little while, when across the room, there was a sudden commotion as porters carried in a pile of suitcases. Amid the bustle, a young woman stood by herself. In her smart coat and hat, leather gloves, and high heels, she looked just like any other guest arriving at the hotel.

But she was not just any other guest, and in a moment Alice recognized her. “Auntie Sybil!” she shouted, and dashed across the hall, to throw her arms around her aunt. “Mummy just told me you were coming! How long are you staying? A long time? I hope so! Christmas is much lovelier here than in America.”

Sybil laughed. “Hi, darling! Yes, we’re staying for Christmas. It is lovely here.” She tugged at one of Alice’s plaits. “Look at you! So big!”

“Well, I _am_ six now.”

“So you are.” She looked around at the room which had not changed in any perceptible way since her own childhood, and she wondered what her six-year-old self would have thought of the woman she had grown up to become.“Your mother tells me you’ve practically got the run of this place.”

“Don’t tell Mr. Carson that,” Alice giggled. “But I do know everybody here pretty well. I could give you a tour if you like!”

“Yes, we’d like that!”

Alice realized something. “Wait-- who’s _we_?”

“Ah.” Sybil looked around, suddenly seeming a bit anxious. “That is myself and-- my fiancé... who must be around here somewhere-- oh! Larry!”

A man had appeared at Sybil’s elbow, which he grasped possessively. He stared down at Alice with a rather frightening look in his eyes. He was not the sort she would have expected her aunt to marry! For that was what _fiancé_ meant, she knew.

“You must be Alice,” he drawled. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Alice took an immediate, instinctive dislike to the man. “I haven’t heard anything about you,” she responded coolly.

Sybil laughed awkwardly. “I’m sorry about that-- it’s all been rather a whirlwind! We met this summer-- just after you visited-- and now have only just gotten engaged.”

“When are you getting married?”

“Christmas Eve,” Larry replied, snaking his arm around Sybil’s waist. “Won’t it be so romantic?”

“That’s very soon,” Alice said. “That’s next...” She trailed off then, as she realized that that must be the special event for which Tom would be a waiter.

“Is something wrong?” Sybil asked.

“Nevermind.” She shook her head. “I suppose Christmas is a very romantic time to be married... And all our family will be here anyway...” But it was odd, she thought, because _summer_ was definitely her aunt’s favorite time of year. She loved summer, and sunshine, and the seaside.

“You don’t look convinced!” Sybil smiled, but it seemed that she too still needed convincing. “Maybe this’ll do the trick: I want you and Poppy to be bridesmaids!”

“Poppy too? But she’s such a baby. She just cries all the time.”

Sybil let out an unladylike snort, at the exasperation in Alice’s voice. There was no love lost between her sisters, and it seemed the pattern was already beginning to repeat with their daughters. “Well,” she said, “it’s lucky then, that she has you to show her what to do!”

“I’ll try my best,” Alice promised, and took her aunt’s hand. “Shall we do the tour?”

“Ready when you are!” She turned back to Larry. “You’ll come too, won’t you?”

“Yes, dear,” he replied with a smile, “I’m looking forward to seeing where you grew up!” He looked around at the ornate hall, and his smile turned secretive and a bit sinister. “Oh, yes, very much so.”

“Well, this is the hall, or sometimes people call it the saloon,” Alice began. “When there’s weddings, the reception usually is here, after the church-- like in the olden days. Is that how you’ll do it?”

Sybil nodded. “I expect so.”

“Through there is the dining room. We don’t need to see it now, I think, because you’ll see it soon enough anyway.”

“I will indeed-- I’m meeting your mother and Granny Cora there for lunch today. Would you like to come too?”

“Oh, yes!”

“Am I invited?” Larry asked.

“You’ll be having lunch with Matthew,” Sybil informed him. “I asked Mary to arrange it.”

“Must I?”

“You must, but don’t worry, he’s the nicest of all of us.” She laughed. “I’m sure he’ll like you!”

Alice was not, in fact, sure that her father would like Larry. She would have to speak to him before lunch, if she could manage. For now, however, she tugged at her aunt’s hand and they went through to the library, with Larry following behind.

“These are all our family’s old books. The guests aren’t allowed to touch them unless they get special permission from Granddad. But over there,” she said, pointing to the small library just beyond, “there’s new books that they can borrow, and the newspapers too.”

Sybil looked a bit wistful, as she looked around the familiar room. She had once spent a great deal of time here, but it would not do to think of that (or her companion in those days) now. She glanced over at Larry, and slipped her arm through his.

“There are lectures sometimes too,” Alice went on. “Mary Beard came here-- she was Mummy’s professor at Cambridge. She talked all about ancient Rome. Mummy and Daddy were quite excited about that.”

Sybil managed a smile. “Your parents do love the classics, don’t they!”

Alice nodded. “We’re reading a book of Greek myths together now.”

“Where to next?” Larry said.

Alice thought he looked rather bored, and she shook her head slightly in annoyance. But she carried on. She pointed to a doorway at the far end of the library. “Through there’s the tearoom. The family used to take tea in the library, but Granny Violet says guests can’t be trusted for that.”

“Of course she does,” Sybil chuckled.

“It used to be the music room, but when the hotel started we didn’t need that anymore. Because there’s a piano in the drawing room, and we can have concerts in the hall.”

She led them back into the hall, then, and from there to the drawing room.

“In the olden days men and women did a lot of things separately, and Granddad likes to keep things that way. He likes tradition and says that guests come here because they do too. So the women can come here in the daytime, and the men go to the lounge next door. I’m not allowed in there.”

At that, Larry seemed interested, for the first time.

“Your granddad is a stickler for tradition, I remember that all too well,” Sybil said darkly.

It occurred to Alice then that even though Granddad would come with them to America, he and Aunt Sybil didn’t really talk to each other. She couldn’t imagine not wanting to speak to her father, or not coming to Downton for years and years. It seemed terribly sad, and she resolved to ask her parents about it later.


End file.
